


Shards of sunlight

by revoluticn



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Grantaire being Grantaire, M/M, Morning After, he's an insomniac with lots of feelings, it's about the yearning for someone who's asleep in your arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revoluticn/pseuds/revoluticn
Summary: “Enjolras chances a look up at Grantaire’s face; he looks peaceful, rested — but not quite asleep.”Grantaire awakes early on the morning after the night before. An addendum to chapter 17 of La nouvelle vie.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Shards of sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Doesn’t matter by Christine and the Queens. Inspired by [this piece](https://revoluticn-writes.tumblr.com/post/639960840987082752/deboracabral-someones-overwhelmed) by [deboracabral](https://deboracabral.tumblr.com/). (Will update linking the original post directly to their blog but can’t seem to find it on there right now?)

Grantaire’s eyelids are a weak red when he wakes, a strong but pale sunlight streaming into the room. It’s a rarity for him to wake so long after sunrise, especially after having fallen asleep so early — early by his standards, at least, figuring by the feel of it that he must’ve gotten a solid seven hours last night. Understandable, he thinks, given the circumstances—

Oh _fuck_.

He exhales a long breath, harshly thrust into consciousness as the thought of last night catches up to him, just now fully feeling the unfamiliar weight latched onto his side, the hair caressing his chin: Enjolras. 

He’s tucked up thoroughly against Grantaire, supported by Grantaire’s own arm no less, one hand held in Grantaire’s on his chest while the other is curled over his side. He can’t quite see Enjolras’ face, but he can feel the gentle breaths against his skin, deeper than he’s ever noticed Enjolras sleep before — Grantaire knows how Enjolras sleeps now, has had ample opportunity to observe, but _this—_

Shit. _Fuck._

It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s _fine —_ Enjolras had explicitly said he wants this, Grantaire reminds himself, trying to fight the panic that threatens to set in; Enjolras had kissed him, Enjolras had suggested they go home together, Enjolras had trembled in his arms, said his name, moaned it, breathed it against his lips a second before he came—

Grantaire untwines his now-sweaty hand from Enjolras’ and drags it across the bedsheet a couple of times before raking it through his hair. Enjolras’ skin is cooler than his, and yet his thigh against Grantaire’s feels like it’s burning him; nothing he can do about that one without kicking Enjolras away, and god knows he doesn’t want to do that — _again_ , he remembers, having to hold back a groan.

He tries again: Enjolras had said he wants this, wants _more_. He had asked specifically, and Grantaire had given him the barest truth. He mostly succeeds when he tries to deny the single shred of his mind telling him that Enjolras had been too dazed to be coherent last night, but it still clings to his thoughts nonetheless.

He rests his hand back against his stomach instead of replacing it for fear of disturbing Enjolras, who stirs anyway, the hand he’d had on Grantaire’s side moving to rest near his other on Grantaire’s chest as he sighs. 

Grantaire holds himself still for more moments than necessary to ensure Enjolras is still asleep, and resigns himself to the fact that it’ll be a while yet. There are far worse ways to be stuck, he’s fully convinced of that fact at least.

\---

By some divine miracle — one he pointedly chooses not to name, though it’s obvious to him: black, blonde, and may well have drooled on him slightly — Grantaire drops back to the hazy shallows of sleep. The bliss of it is disturbed, however, when his phone rings, still pocketed in his jeans somewhere off the foot of the bed.

He tenses, sure that this time Enjolras will wake while Grantaire has nothing fitting enough for the situation to say, no just-light-enough observation or joke. _I want this forever_ is definitely too much, but nothing else has presented itself to him so far, and Grantaire’s brain-to-mouth filter is a cruel, cruel thing.

The ringtone is the one Joly had set for himself, giving the peace of mind Grantaire had once needed to reassure himself that an early morning call he was awake to hear was simply Joly’s offer for breakfast and not some befallen disaster. He releases the breath he was holding when it rings off, grateful for the fact that Joly only ever calls once and leaves it.

He attempts to check the time in the corner of his eye, moving slowly to get a glimpse, only to find the regret of not having righted Enjolras’ flimsy bedside clock when it had tipped over as Grantaire rifled through the drawer last night.

He sighs and settles back, his mind auspiciously blank as he breathes in the scent of Enjolras’ hair, the mix hard to decipher, but after nights of sharing his bed he thinks he’s getting somewhere close to guessing — for now he says eucalyptus and shea, but there’s definitely more to it. Enjolras’ skin is different, a sweet floral scent, strong enough to detect when entering his personal space, but light enough to make you want more, to draw you even closer, addictive; Grantaire isn’t one to deny his vices, after all.

He’s not sure how long he lies there like that, but eventually he feels Enjolras’ foot move near his, sending his thoughts racing again. While he tries once more to bring a calm over himself, Enjolras’ muscles move in small increments: a shift of a leg, a twitch of a finger, a near-silent sigh against Grantaire’s neck.

He can’t tell if it’s better or worse when nothing seems to come of it, still trapped staring at the ceiling and the edges of the room for — god, fucking _hours_ , it feels like, though rationally it must be closer to five minutes. There’s a deep dull ache in his arm after being slept on for so long, added to now that he’s hovering his hand just off Enjolras’ back.

A flutter of eyelashes against his skin is the sole warning he gets to shut his eyes before Enjolras moves properly, lifting his head for a few moments, in which Grantaire tries not to give into the instinct to open his eyes against the feeling of being watched.

The fear subsides when Enjolras rests back against his shoulder, and dissipates when he presses a kiss to Grantaire’s neck; his mind stops, his pulse slows, and that’s all the convincing he needs.

He turns his head to kiss Enjolras’ forehead, heart skipping for another reason when he feels Enjolras smile. Grantaire blinks back to this new reality just as Enjolras looks up to him, brown eyes bleary and tired, but warm and full of a feeling that Grantaire knows is currently also burrowing into his chest.

“Good morning,” Enjolras hums, thick with sleep but soft as ever. 

_Yeah_ , Grantaire thinks, _Yeah, it is_.

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw [this piece](https://revoluticn-writes.tumblr.com/post/639960840987082752/deboracabral-someones-overwhelmed) by [deboracabral](https://deboracabral.tumblr.com/) on Sunday and took a break from working on ch18 to write this in the spur of the moment. I always had it planned out that Grantaire would’ve woken earlier but never planned to write it out until seeing this, and then I liked it too much to not share.  
> If you’re interested in reading the ongoing main fic then you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447568) — I'll collect everything into a series once it's finished but right now that seems too daunting. If you’re not into long fics and just want some smut then jump on ahead to ch16, hell knows I won’t judge you for that.  
> Comments and kudos appreciated, and thank you for reading!


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